


Faded

by HkHk



Series: Talon Tracer AU [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/F, Humor, Overwatch! Amelie, Slice of Life, Talon! Tracer, Talon!AU, tags to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-17 10:15:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9319253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HkHk/pseuds/HkHk
Summary: "Hey Oxton," Gabriel said when he had shown up at her door, tendrils of dark smoke seeping from the shattered edges of his mask with his blood dripping on her bedroom floor. He looked calm for a man who was bleeding all over her carpet. "Where's your first aid kit?"She'd never get the deposit back now.OrTracer never answers the recall.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. I have been having some serious Overwatch feelings. This is also a lot of random thoughts and mostly a thought of Tracer working for Talon and I have a few other ones that involve torture but this one is more light hearted. Too much Talon! Tracer artwork. So pretty. 
> 
> This is more Gabe being friends with Lena and getting her to help him and not Jack because there are a lot of unresolved feelings about Jack. About Morrison. About Overwatch. About all those people who he used to work with and now half of them are dead and he wants to kill the rest. Yeah.

Gabriel fingered the trigger of his shotgun and debated the necessity of killing one more Talon grunt. The pale sweating man was still babbling about mercy. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Lena's limp form on the dissection table.

He pulled the trigger. 

With ease, he walked over to the platform and turned the restraints off. Lena was slumped, unconscious, the pale blue glow of her anchor lighting up her face. Judging by her light breathing they had drugged her. 

"You dumb ass." He growled from under his mask as he carried her out of the facility. 

The last time he carried anyone McCree had only one arm. 

No doubt Talon would claim they had no idea that someone would dare kidnap his subordinate. Ever since he had entered in this mutual relationship, they had been poking at him, needling him at each turn. They want to know what made him tick. All they got was a lot of dead grunts. In the end, they respectfully kept their noses out of his business as long as he did what they wanted. Then he showed up with a partner, a notorious hero, Tracer. A former hero. After Overwatch ended they were disbanded and they all fell to the wayside or to other places. Tracer happened to vanish completely and was living her life as a normal person when Gabriel appeared in her flat dripping blood over her floors. He just needed a bit of time to regenerate. 

She helped him and before he knew it, declared she would assist him. Like some sort of hero. More like an idiot. A persistent idiot who wouldn't let go of the subject and chased him down the streets.

What an annoyance. 

He didn't need a partner. He had gotten this far without one.

The journey that lead him here was a long and arduous one, full of ghosts and memories. The things he'd done to get to this point would make his Blackwatch resume pale in comparison. 

Before, he had done his duty, backed by a higher power. He was a righteous man.

Now? 

There was a chasm full of blood that separated the person he used to be and the person he made himself into. 

* * *

Slipstream leaned against the wall as she watched the most boring meeting she ever had to attend droned on. One would think Talon would be full of human sacrifices and mad scientists cackling and unearthing their newest and latest horror against humanity, but no, Talon was like any corporate conglomerate bent on world domination. There were countless foot soldiers, scientists, engineers and even janitors. There was paperwork. There was a cafeteria that cooked mystery meat far too often and to the loud grumbling of everyone. It almost felt like Overwatch if not for the decor. 

She glanced at the insignia on her shoulder, tracing the "T" with a gloved finger. 

Across the room, Reaper glowered in the shadows, thoroughly intimidating anyone who dared glance at him. His very presence assured many things. Slipstream tilted her head to watch the feeds her gaze shifting from each projected figure. The shadowy leaders of Talon. They weren't physically present of course, they were not that stupid. Nor were they foolish enough to be gathered in one place. Instead, they projected their image and their voices came out of speakers. There were a few commanders scattered in the room watching and giving their reports. It was very dull. 

"Boring~." 

Slipstream jumped a foot in the air, spinning around, an indignant noise escaping her lips. "Hey!" 

"Hay is for horses, niña." Sombra said with a smirk as the rest of her appeared. "Sorry I'm late." 

"Not like you couldn't just hack the feed and watch in your room." Slipstream muttered once her heart rate went back to a respectable forty beats a minute. "What are you doing here? I thought you hated shit like this." 

"I do. But you were here so I thought to myself," Sombra made the motions of thinking. "It would be a terrible shame if you died of boredom." 

Slipstream raised an eyebrow. 

"Okay, okay. You got me. I was bored. I was really tempted to disrupt the feeds but they got some really good security. It almost made me kind of jealous." Sombra leaned against the wall and crossed her arms across her chest. "Besides, it's easier to get a reading from here anyways." 

Sombra was a mysterious person who Slipstream found by accident mostly by running her over. They became instant friends. Despite being several years older than Sombra, the younger girl didn't seem to mind. The hacker would frequently share information with Slipstream and in turn she showed Sombra how to be a better shot. 

"Still trying to hack the feeds?" 

"Of course, I'm curious where they originate. Arn't you?"

Slipstream snorted. "Better be careful, else they'd start taking fingers."

Talon held to the old school rules about betrayal and treachery. They were really organized for a mercenary group and that tipped her off about their true nature. If they knew the truth about her, she'd never make it out. Not intact at any rate. She had been hearing whispers of their Widowmaker program. It was one way of ensuring compliance and loyalty. It spooked her to her bones. Who knows what they would do to her if they had their way. They already wanted to change a few things, make her more efficient and more deadly. String her up on so many drugs it would make her heart jump out of her chest.

Lena rolled her shoulders adjusting the weight of the harness. They had stripped the chassis and made a different one, with a red filter. It was a touch slimmer than the one Winston designed and painted a matte black. If one could accuse Talon of anything, aside from killing people for money, it was their attempt to monopolize the color black and red. They were going to have to fight Commander Reyes for it, though. 

Speaking of the devil...

She blinked across the room, causing a few people to scatter as she halted by his side. "Hiya." She careened her head to look at what had caught his attention. 

The meeting had switched over to assignments. There was a lot. Talon had been gearing up for something global. 

Lena's eyes widened behind her goggles.

"You're not going." Reaper growled.

"But-"

"No."

She couldn't argue with him, not in public, not like this. The stakes were too high. But-

The words kept blinking over the holoprojected globe. It made her heart clench.

Watchpoint: Gibraltar 

* * *

Lena's story started with being selected for the Slipstream project. She had been recruited from the RAF due to her skills as a pilot. 

Even after the disaster, even after being stuck in the Slipstream unable to touch anyone her enthusiasm couldn't be curbed. She joined Overwatch as an agent and became a hero. A god damn hero. Someone kids could look up to. Then they lost headquarters. 

A lot of good people died in that explosion. 

Overewatch disbanded and Tracer vanished. Lena lived on her pension and worked odd jobs that didn't require her to be there in person. She couldn't explain her anchor and there were enough anti-Overwatch sentiments that she had to be careful. What was she now that Overwatch was gone? She couldn't fly and RAF could not take her back. Not after everything that had happened. Despite that, she lead a rather mundane life. 

It all went tits up when former Commander Reyes showed up in her flat. 

She may have taken a leaf out of Angela's book and drugged him but it was for a good cause. She needed to know what was going on. Why he was still alive. Why he wasn't dead. What he was doing. 

Which lead to her being here in a Talon transport. Working for the bad guys. Next to a Widowmaker. 

Jesus Christ on a cracker did they scare the shit out of her. A bunch of brainwashed emotionally incapable assassins at the beck and call of the executives of Talon. At least they knew how to make them. Hoo boy. All tall and pretty like. 

Blimey, what would her mother think? 

The ship made a shuddering noise nearly knocking her on her ass. "Where did he learn to fly?" Lena hissed under her breath. She went to the cockpit to give the pilot a piece of her mind. 

* * *

 


	2. King's Row

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introducing Amélie Sniper extraordinaire

Amélie pulled against the lapels of her jacket. Despite her frequent trips to England she was still unused to how cold it was. Even bundled up in her thick jacket she could still feel the sharpness of the wind against her face. She was here to watch a speech by Tekhartha Mondatta leader of the Shambali. Tension between Omnics and humans have grown worldwide and it was all centered on King's Row. The upscale cosmopolitan neighborhood was built upon the back of omnic laborers who were denied their basic rights and were forced into the Underground. Understandable some people took issues with this. It was a hotbed of protests and riots between the pro-Omnic crowd and the police. 

Tekhartha Mondatta was going to make a speech in King's Row in the streets overshadowed by tall winding buildings. 

It was perfect place for an assassination.

Chance placed Amélie in front of her television as she caught the news coverage about Mondatta's speech. She never had the chance to meet the omnic and perhaps, it would be worth it to step out of her apartment and to witness history being made. She had never ventured into King's Row before. It was classy and beautiful if one ignores the graffiti painted on the walls snapshots of the turmoil roiling under the street's deceptive peaceful appearance. 

There was a size able turnout for Mondatta's speech. A mixture of omnic and humans, enough to fill the streets and cause headaches for the local police department.

Amélie could spotted the undercover cops in the crowd and the guards intermingled in the masses. It was a decent attempt. The crowd would make a decent distraction for a getaway but why risk trying to kill the omnic in person when there were far more favorable means. A single sniper could make all their security precautions meaningless. She would bet a single euro that there would be security on the rooftops. It may work if they were up against the usual mercenary fare. Not against the likes of Talon. 

"Human. Machine. We are all one in the Iris." Mondatta began. "Before me I see the future, humans and omnics standing together. United by compassion. By common hopes and dreams." 

The human guard by his left side tilted his head as if listening to someone in his earpiece. Sloppy. Amélie moved through the crowd and towards the back alleys. She couldn't get rid of the feeling in her chest, that something was happening, something terrible. Even after a few years as a civilian her instincts were as sharp as ever. 

She's never made it a habit to wear her gear or a weapon at her hip wherever she went but Gérard's death had taught her many things. 

One of which she carved into her heart. 

_Safety is an illusion._

Amélie walked a block until she was in an empty alleyway. She raised her arm, the sleeve of her coat sliding down, revealing the sleek designed grappling hook that resembled a prosthetic. With a hiss of propellant she ascended to the rooftop silently landing on her feet pulling out her sidearm. Reluctantly she abandoned her jacket. Cold or not, the pea coat would only hamper her movement and give away her steps. The garment was hidden in the shadow of the ledge. Underneath she wore a long sleeved dark turtleneck, navy blue pleated skirt and black leggings. Her purse she cinched tighter so it wouldn't impede her movement.

The rooftop was eerily quiet. She traversed it in quick strides. She came across the first body and checked for any breathing. The guard was unconscious and would be nursing a headache when he woke up. The second body was in the same condition and a few feet away sprawled out as if he had just decided to take a quick nap. This was quick work. The work of one attacker or perhaps two working in tandem. There was no way anyone could take out one guard without alerting the other not without help.

A communication piece was tactically acquired and inserted into her ear. 

"Sniper on the roof." Amélie said coolly. "Your principle is in danger."

The man on the other side sounded panicked, as he should be, but she paid him no heed. Alerting the police was to draw her quarry out of hiding. Not to mention to keep an ear out for the police's movement. She would hate to be incarcerated.  Amélie launched herself to the next rooftop scanning places that _she_ would have chosen if she were the one to be assigned to this mission. Her teacher had impressed upon her to know what the enemy would think. How else would she be able to outmaneuver them?

Two rooftop later, a few more bodies and she stumbled, almost literally, upon her prey. Just as she had predicted, the best vantage was on the balcony where the angle of fire would direct the bullet through two panes of glass and into the target. It was ambitious. Even without her scope she could imagine how that shot would be placed.

A pity someone was going to ruin that sniper's day. 

And that someone was going to be her. 

The only redeemable thing about being part of Blackwatch, aside from the odd hours and having to deal with Gabriel, was all the technology at their disposal. The slim but powerful grappling hook aperture that could get past security checkpoints, down to the body armor and most of all, the guns. Amélie could break down a rifle and put it back together in a minute flat while blindfolded.

It was a pity she did not have her Widow's kiss.

The collapsible rifle had been on the drawing board for years. A weapon that could function as a sniper rifle and an assault rifle in case the sniper's position was compromised and they were engaged in close quarters. It had been a gift for all her hard work. It was, unfortunately, back at home. 

But she had the next best thing.

A woman's purse held many things. Her wallet, her keys and a hidden space for a butt stock. She pulled it out, popping the lid, assembling the rife in record time in the dark.

She should really think Ana for the foresight and perhaps ponder the implications. 

Was it paranoia or forward thinking?

With a flick of her finger she turned the scope on, adjusting the setting for night vision. A pity this did not have heat vision as well. Ah, she had been in worse conditions. At least it was not raining and she hadn't moved for 36 hours waiting for her target. 

Amélie glanced through the scope, adjusting her vision on her target. It was a woman, definitely, with a curious contraption on her face. Not a helmet and a this range, she would simply adjust where she wanted the bullet to go. The soft part of the throat where, when punctured, the target drowns in their own blood unable to make a sound. Death would be quick.

She steadied her grip.

Aimed.

Took a slight breath.

Held it. 

Fired. 

The sniper slumped forward a barely detectable motion across the rooftops. Amélie quietly congratulated herself. This would be something she would tell Ana at their next meet up. 

Amélie lowered her rifle only to notice a flicker of light from behind her. "No!" A female voice yelled. A red blur blinked into existence on the balcony where the sniper's cooling corpse lied.

"You killed her!" 

Amélie threw herself to the side as gun fire-wait no. It wasn't a projectile but it did punch a few neat holes in the brick wall next to her. She deployed her grappling hook and flew through the air, eyes scanning for the red blur. Suddenly something warm and angular slammed into her, arms wrapped around her body and it sent them both careening onto the nearest rooftop. Her rifle clattered to the side as she Amélie hit the roof with a thud. She reacted quickly, elbowing her assailant in the face while rolling them over until she was on top. Stray strands of hair hung over her face as she pinned the woman's hips with her thighs. With one hand she pulled her pistol out of her waistband pointing it at the soldier's face. Feelings of triumph flickered on her normally passive face. She would savor this moment before she put a bullet in the soldier's brain.

 

 

For a second they stared at each other. 

The device on her chest gleamed in the moonlight but its telltale red glow was gone. Was it charging? Amélie stared at the contraption wondering why she felt as if she had seen this before. 

Abruptly, their positions were reversed, a hand against her forearm, pushing the muzzle of the gun to the side. "Why did you kill her?" The short girl was stronger than she looked. 

Amélie struggled with the Talon agent her arms straining. "Foolish girl." She hissed. "You have no idea about the organization you joined, did you?" 

She jutted her hip, throwing the smaller girl off and then kicking her. The Talon soldier jerked to the side, dodging Amélie's kick and with a surprisingly rolled her off the roof. She plummeted for a few feet before she could use her grappling hook, swinging onto a fire escape. 

From the other rooftop, a red glow hummed into existence, stark in the darkness. 

* * *

 

Amélie was never a part of Overwatch in the beginning. She was content with her ballet while Gérard saved the world. She had known the dangers of being involved with a man whose work lead him across the globe and who had multiple bags and guns in the house. Her life was filled with uncertainty at times when Gérard had to leave on one of his long missions but he would always return to her. For some time she was happy. Her husband was untouchable.

All good things come to an end and hers was on a quiet night and a body on her bed. 

Amélie couldn't recall much of what happened after that. She was a dead woman walking. Captain Amari took her under her wing and gave Amélie an outlet for her anger and her grief. She already knew how to fire a gun Gérard had taken her to the pistol ranges many times and had often cautioned her on carrying just for his piece of mind. Ana taught her how to be dangerous. 

She approached Commander Reyes and demanded he let her join. She knew what he did. It was surprising how much she did not know of Gérard or what he really did. At that time, kindness was the further thing from her mind.

Amélie wanted revenge. She wanted something to fill that hole inside her that Gérard's death left. 

They did manage to connect on a professional level. Gabriel Reyes was quite the leader and a bit dramatic at times. He also had a bit of humor.

"Cauchemar?" Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "Really? Nightmare? Are you going to get it tattooed on your arm as well to complete the look? Why not call yourself Widowmaker and be done with it?" 

"Please," Amélie waved a hand delicately. "As if that is not the strangest handle you have came across." 

"True. I met this redhead in Russia. They called her the Black Widow." Gabriel paused. "She was really good at what she did." 

"It is what I wish to be called." Amélie said flatly. "They will fear me. I will be their nightmare." 

And so she was. 

It didn't matter what precautions Talon took, she always completed her mission. 

When information about Blackwatch was flashed across the news it almost ended her world again. People were calling for Overwatch to end. Corruption. Assassinations. The public didn't understand. None of them did. Blackwatch did what it had to. They protected the world while Overwatch got all the glory. She was proud of her work and despite Gabriel's frequent rants and stays at her place, she knew he was proud of it too. Just a bit overwrought about being passed over as Strike Commander.

In the eventual shutdown of Overwatch, few were as well prepared as her. Unlike a few others, Amélie retired her rifle and returned to civilian life as if nothing has changed. She moved back home, to Annecy, where she taught children ballet. A good agent is able to know when the wind changes and prepare appropriately for it. 

She kept her ears and eyes open watching the world change. 

Ana would contact her once in a while, meet up to compete over who was the best sniper and talk news. Mostly gossip and lament about how Fareeha hasn't settled down yet and how will she ever get grandchildren at this rate.

"Do you remember Tracer?" Ana asked over tea one day. 

"Tracer?" Amélie blinked slowly and searched her memories. "The orange one, yes?" 

"Yes." Ana said with a laugh. "She was very fond of her jumpsuit, said it made her more aerodynamic." The older woman chuckled. "Bullshit." 

She couldn't recall this person. With a quick tap of her fingers she looked Tracer up. A somewhat familiar face appeared of a young woman with mousy brown hair and huge eyes looked back at her. She was dressed in a horrendous orange jumpsuit with a bright blue device strapped to her chest. Wait. She knew that face. A memory flickered before her eyes, of her husband introducing her to a shy small girl in dress blues. 

"The Brit." Amélie breathed out in remembrance. Memories of seeing her briefly out of the corner of her eyes whenever she visited a numerous Overwatch facilities. Oddly enough they never really spoke. They worked in completely different circles. "Why do you ask?" 

"Just wondering if you kept in touch with a few of the more eccentric memories of Overwatch." Ana said as if she wasn't one of those members. As if she didn't rip the armor off an omnic while her teammates were firing at it. 

"Non." 

The people she had worked with had all faded into the background. There was no one she wanted to speak to. 

Gabriel was dead. Just like her husband.

Ana placed her teacup down on her saucer, her single eye looking Amélie over. "You know I do not blame you for what happened." She tapped her eye patch forcing Amélie's gaze onto the black fabric. 

"If I had been faster-" 

"If." Ana said in a gentle but sharp tone all the same. "You can worry the world away with 'what ifs' and 'I could have done better'. You killed the sniper who took my eye. You did your best. There is nothing more I can expect from my sharpest pupil. You did save my life." 

She could still remember Ana's scream across the coms. 

"Whatever Talon was working on, you stopped. You set their program back for years. We take our victories when we can." 

"I was lucky." 

"What is the battlefield, but luck? There is always a bullet with our names on it. The question is when it finds its us." Ana's eye grew distant. "And who will take us out." 

* * *

Amélie left well before the police arrived. She was right in that the crowd would provide a distraction and their panic would stall the police. When she returned to her apartment, Amélie kept a series of safe houses across the world, a light was blinking on her comm set. 

It was a recall. 

For a long moment she stared at the blinking blue dot. Curious. Why would she be included? Amélie walked over to her desk and sat down. She quickly scanned the message. It was sent from Athena and it...it implied that Overwatch was coming back. This could be a trap. The Petras Act meant all Overwatch activity was considered criminal and punishable by the law. Talon could be attempting to smoke any remaining Overwatch agents out from hiding. 

Amélie stared suspiciously at the blinking light. Caution would dictate that she trace the signal and make sure it was legitimate. A part of her wanted this to be real. She did miss her colleagues. She missed the high adrenaline fights, the long nights scouting out a target, the kick of her rifle against her shoulder. The thrill of the kill. 

Her mind drifted back to the Talon soldier. She had many questions that needed to be answered.

 

"Cauchemar reporting in." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, what do you think of Overwatch Amélie? Still kind of broken but she's strong. She survived this far.
> 
> As for Lena, she's gonna figure out what exactly she signed up for and how deep the rabbit hole goes.

**Author's Note:**

> Should I have Widowmaker? Or Amélie who is Overwatch's sniper?
> 
> Also I am pretty sure Lena doesn't age anymore. She was part of Overwatch when they were in the golden years and the decline and she hasn't changed. At all. Another food for thought.


End file.
